Scarred For Life
by FandaticForeverAndAlways
Summary: Her memories were her daily nightmares. Her secrets were too dark and too twisted. Her scars ran too deep. Don't judge a book by its cover, they said. And they did. *Rated M for heavy themes*


**Written for Issues/Sensitive – Prompt: **Body Dismorphic Disorder

**Written for Character Diversity – **Prompt6: Broken

**Written for HP Potions Competition – **Deflating Draught – write about depression

**Written for the Legendary Gods and Goddesses Competition –**Kabechet – Write about someone wandering (physical/mental)

**Written for Head Canon Boot Camp – **Prompt16: I hate you!

**Written for Television Boot Camp – **Prompt4: And what's bizarre is I'm always going to be a cutter. Even if I don't do it for years, it's still me – Degrassi

**Summary: Her memories were her daily nightmares. Her secrets were too dark and too twisted. Her scars ran too deep. Don't judge a book by its cover, they said. But they did. **

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**Scarred for Life**

_I don't freaking love you! I don't give a damn about you!_

The person who was supposed to love her no matter what – genetically programmed to – was the one who had told her those very words and once she was old enough to understand, they never left her.

_How can you think that _you _are beautiful? _

He was supposed to tell her that she was his princess, his baby girl, beautiful like no other. Only, he never did.

_Perfect and you? Those two shouldn't be used in the same sentence._

He was supposed to remind her that she was fine just the way she was every time she felt down. But instead he bore it into her mind that she never was.

_What an idiot! You are the worthless piece of shit that I never wanted in my life! _

He was supposed to exclaim his happiness at how lucky he was to have her as his daughter – he could have at least lied. Truth is always bitter . . . because lucky was never the first thing he felt to have her.

_Do you know what I see when I look at you? Someone pathetic and someone weak!_

Every time he looked at her, he was supposed to be proud and happy at the person she had grown into – he was supposed to be a father, just a dorky loving father. But that was dream of hers which never came true.

She tried her best to change herself, she tried her best to gain his attention, but every time he kicked her and beat her up – she lost hope in herself. More and more . . .

She was ugly.

She was unlovable.

She was imperfect.

She stripped her body off her clothes but left her inner wear on, and stood staring at herself in the mirror. The girl she saw in the reflection made her wish that it wasn't her.

But it was her – _it was_.

The worst part about her was her face – maybe things would have been different if her face was pretty – The bobbed black hair was too black. The round face was hollow and too small. And the brown eyes were dull as the mud. The nose was too tiny. And those lips, why were they so unbalanced?

The arms looked too long, and legs shorter to balance them. The dark bruises over her stomach were bluish and the cuts were coated with red. And that was the only part of her which actually seemed attractive. Only the bruises and the cuts on her body were worth looking. Everything else . . . not so much.

A dark shadow loomed over her in the mirror – it didn't have any particular shape or face – it was just a voice, as hollow and deep it can get.

_You are so weak . . . And so pathetic . . . Look at you! I have never seen anyone as ugly as you. Who'll want that face, that body? I know the answer – no one. _

The voice left chills passing down her spine. It was funny that it had the same effect on her despite the fact that she had heard it more than a million times. It never failed to unnerve her or make her feel even more worthless than she felt. One would expect her to be used to it.

_So ugly . . . imperfection personified. _

She clenched her fist and punched the mirror. It cracked under the force, and shards of glass fell onto the floor and few tiny ones were left in her injured hand as the blood trickled down freely from the cuts. She didn't even feel the pain.

_So much anger, if only it could help your ugly body! _

Feeling numb and out of the world as she listened to the cackle of laughter, Pansy Parkinson fell onto the floor and hugged her distorted body feeling weak – pathetic – but most of all unwanted.

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**AN: Something dark and twisted, I feel sorry for Pansy. When I saw this prompt, all I could think was of her. She's so hurt in my head canon.**

**I hope I did a good job with this, leave me a review! =)**


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